Jake: Unfinished Business
by Rainosa
Summary: Every ghost has unfinished business. Even Skulker, the Ghost Zone's greatest hunter. So what happens when suddenly, his business gets finished up? Oneshot for Ectober.


Heavy panting. Rough, tearing up the inside of his lungs. Like a ball of sandpaper, repeatedly bouncing back up from the bottom of his ribs. His shoulders shuddered, quivering in exhaustion or what could have been fear; his entire body groaned at the tension that continued to fill his every nerve, keeping him on his toes as he dodged the next blast.

Loud noises. Behind him, like thunder but much, much closer. He ducked to avoid the debris, and nearly collapsed in complete fatigue. He was done. This fight was over, and both of them knew it. He shifted, twisting to lie on his back, and his attacker paused, recognizing surrender when he saw it. The final weapon was retrieved from an unseen toolbelt, and aimed directly for him, powering up into the high, irritating whine of advanced technology.

"Wait," he said quietly.

The whine paused, and died down for a bit.

"What?"

He panted some more before speaking again, "Just...give me a second."

The weapon completely powered down, and inquisitive green eyes beset him, clearly not satisfied with the amount of explanation occuring.

"Hey man, are you okay?"

He nodded, and shifted again to try and get more comfortable.

The kid backed off a little, but sat down nearby, "Did I push too hard? Is your Core alright?"

"I said I'm fine, whelp," he snapped back, but winced when the movement shook more pain into his chest.

The other ghost looked taken aback for a moment, almost speechless.

"No. You're not," Phantom realized, moving in closer, "Something is wrong. You're hurt. Did I hurt you? I thought with your suit, you wouldn't feel the pain, but-"

"Look, it's not your fault, kid," Skulker promised.

The kid blinked, "Well then...what?"

He sighed, but the sand paper still bounced up into his throat, "Why do you think ghosts are formed?"

Confusion flashed across his glowing features, not seeing the relevance to the topic. A few moments of speculation passed before the ghost kid answered.

"A bunch of people die around ectoplasm, I guess."

Skulker laughed, and Phantom pouted, not appreciating the reaction being derrogatory.

"Ghost child, let me explain to you the true existence of ghosts."

"We all have something keeping us here. Some piece of existence that refuses to die out. A bit of unfinished business. Usually it's pretty nasty," Skulker began.

"Like what?"

"Ember had it really bad, I remember. A practical nobody who hardly got spoken to. When she finally was, she got raped and killed in a dark alley somewhere. Cops never even found her body. So she's still here because her case still isn't closed. Walker's got his wife still walking around. Poindexter never got a chance to get revenge, and Youngblood...yeesh. That kid has unfinished business up the wazoo. Killed by his own parents, and doesn't even know it. The only reason I found out was because I was nearby when he formed. Some people..." he explained.

There was an uncomfortable silence while Phantom processed Skulker's words. The mechanical ghost shifted, trying to build up the strength to stand, but not quite being able to. Phantom was still confused, though, and his next question brought his issue forward.

"So...what's yours?"

The gentle calm that had seemed to creep over them vanished, replaced by dread and sadness and _so much guilt._ His strength suddenly returned with a vengeance, and he shuffled away from the other host and attempted to fly, failing miserably as he flopped over some debris. Phantom stood and put a hand out to stop him.

"I don't want to talk about it," Skulker breathed hotly, brushing past Phantom's outstretched arm and trying to rise.

"Come on, Skulker," Phantom prodded, gently following behind as the hunter dragged himself across the ground, "You're hurt, and I can't help unless you explain to me what's wrong."

"You can't help, period, whelp," Skulker scathed, turning slightly to face his opponent, "This isn't something you can wrap up in bandages and wait until it gets better. This is permanent. Don't you get that? I'm dying, Phantom!"

Stunned silence followed, and Skulker crawled on, not proud of his loss of control. But now the whelp's curiosity was piqued. There was no getting out of this. With a sigh, his escape slid to a halt, and he twisted to face the questions.

"Why?"

"My unfinished business is...finished. Nothing is holding me here anymore, and I'm fading out of existence. There's nothing you can do about it, kid, and you shouldn't try to. I am dying, and that's that."

...

"What was your business?"

Skulker sighed, "Kid..."

Phantom shook his head, "No, I get that you don't want me to try to stop it, and I respect that, but...I want to know who you were before you're gone, y'know?"

Silence.

"Twenty years ago, my son went missing."

"What?"

"My son. He went missing over twenty years ago, and me and my wife were searching for him for years. Well, until she took her own life. I stayed around ten years after he disappeared, until I finally gave up and shot myself. Been like this for ten years, and searching, hunting for my son the whole time. I started hunting other things, too, just to pass the time, but now..."

"They found him."

"His body, at least. At the bottom of a lake in Colorado. He had been down there almost the entire time. He was six. Oh gosh, he was just six. They pulled his body up three days ago, and identified the remains yesterday. And now, off I go, to whatever's after this. I just thought I'd... just thought I'd go after you one last time, before I leave. Just to see if I could. I guess... I guess I can't."

Phantom paused, "Well, if it's any consolation, this fight was extra hard today. You really had some good tricks up your sleeve."

Skulker grunted as humourously as he could, but he didn't have the strength to laugh.

"So, ummm...how long have you got?"

"I had a couple days, before this fight. Now I think it's gone down to a couple of hours. Possibly a couple of minutes."

He waited for a snarky 'Well what was that for, stupid?' or a sarcastic 'What a great idea!' but was surprised when the whelp's voice came out soft and respectful.

"That's brave," Phantom admitted, "Staring death in the face like that."

"Really?"

"Yeah. I mean, I'm only about halfway there, and even then, I still have an afterlife to live. You... a few more minutes and you could be wiped from existence, and you're not even breaking a sweat. That's some serious guts you got," Phantom divulged.

Skulker shifted for the last time to properly face the kid, "Yeah. I guess I'm going to be gone."

"We had some wild times, huh?"

"You were great prey."

"And you were the greatest hunter in the Ghost Zone. I'll miss you, man."

"And you too, ghost child."

"Hey wait, before you go... what was your son's name?"

"Hmm?"

"What was the name of your son?"

"Oh. We named him after me, actually. His name was Jake."

"Nice."

"Thanks."

And in a flash of bright light, he was gone.

"Hey Sam," Danny called, walking in the front door and taking off his jacket.

"Hello, sweetie," she responded from the living room, the dull buzz of reality television echoing nearby. Striding into the room, he slipped onto the couch beside her, snaking one hand around his wife's waist to rest on her distended belly.

"Had a run in with Skulker today," he commented, gently tugging her towards him until her head rested on his shoulder.

"Oh? How did that go?"

"Interestingly. I don't think we'll be seeing much more of him from now on."

"Oh."

"And hey, y'know what came to me while I was out there?"

"What?"

"We should call the baby Jake."


End file.
